How to Win Friends and Influence People

news for you fellows.' He hurried over and very excitedly told us
about an executive life insurance policy his company had introduced
that very day. (It was the same policy that Carl had casually
mentioned.) He wanted us to have one of the first issued. He gave
us a few important facts about the coverage and ended saying, 'The
policy is so new, I'm going to have someone from the home office
come out tomorrow and explain it. Now, in the meantime, let's get
the applications signed and on the way so he can have more
information to work with.' His enthusiasm aroused in us an eager
want for this policy even though we still did not have details, When
they were made available to us, they confirmed John's initial
understanding of the policy, and he not only sold each of us a policy,
but later doubled our coverage.

"Carl could have had those sales, but he made no effort to arouse in
us any desire for the policies."

The world is full of people who are grabbing and self-seeking. So the
rare individual who unselfishly tries to serve others has an enormous
advantage. He has little competition. Owen D. Young, a noted lawyer
and one of America's great business leaders, once said: "People who
can put themselves in the place of other people who can understand
the workings of their minds, need never worry about what the future
has in store for them."

If out of reading this book you get just one thing - an increased
tendency to think always in terms of other people's point of view,
and see things from their angle - if you get that one thing out of this
book, it may easily prove to be one of the building blocks of your
career.

Looking at the other person's point of view and arousing in him an
eager want for something is not to be construed as manipulating
that person so that he will do something that is only for your benefit
and his detriment. Each party should gain from the negotiation. In
the letters to Mr. Vermylen, both the sender and the receiver of the
correspondence gained by implementing what was suggested. Both
the bank and Mrs. Anderson won by her letter in that the bank
obtained a valuable employee and Mrs. Anderson a suitable job. And
in the example of John's sale of insurance to Mr. Lucas, both gained
through this transaction.

Another example in which everybody gains through this principle of
arousing an eager want comes from Michael E. Whidden of Warwick,
Rhode Island, who is a territory salesman for the Shell Oil Company.
Mike wanted to become the Number One salesperson in his district,
but one service station was holding him back. It was run by an older
man who could not be motivated to clean up his station. It was in
such poor shape that sales were declining significantly.

This manager would not listen to any of Mike's pleas to upgrade the
station. After many exhortations and heart-to-heart talks - all of
which had no impact - Mike decided to invite the manager to visit the
newest Shell station in his territory.

The manager was so impressed by the facilities at the new station
that when Mike visited him the next time, his station was cleaned up
and had recorded a sales increase. This enabled Mike to reach the
Number One spot in his district. All his talking and discussion hadn't
helped, but by arousing an eager want in the manager, by showing
him the modern station, he had accomplished his goal, and both the
manager and Mike benefited.

Most people go through college and learn to read Virgil and master
the mysteries of calculus without ever discovering how their own
minds function. For instance: I once gave a course in Effective
Speaking for the young college graduates who were entering the
employ of the Carrier Corporation, the large air-conditioner
manufacturer. One of the participants wanted to persuade the others
to play basketball in their free time, and this is about what he said:
"I want you to come out and play basketball. I like to play basketball,
but the last few times I've been to the gymnasium there haven't
been enough people to get up a game. Two or three of us got to
throwing the ball around the other night - and I got a black eye. I
wish all of you would come down tomorrow night. I want to play
basketball."

Did he talk about anything you want? You don't want to go to a
gymnasium that no one else goes to, do you? You don't care about
what he wants. You don't want to get a black eye.

Could he have shown you how to get the things you want by using
the gymnasium? Surely. More pep. Keener edge to the appetite.
Clearer brain. Fun. Games. Basketball.

To repeat Professor Overstreet's wise advice: First, arouse in the
other person an eager want He who can do this has the whole world
with him. He who cannot walks a lonely way.

One of the students in the author's training course was worried
about his little boy. The child was underweight and refused to eat
properly. His parents used the usual method. They scolded and
nagged. "Mother wants you to eat this and that." "Father wants you
to grow up to be a big man."

Did the boy pay any attention to these pleas? Just about as much as
you pay to one fleck of sand on a sandy beach.

No one with a trace of horse sense would expect a child three years
old to react to the viewpoint of a father thirty years old. Yet that was

precisely what that father had expected. It was absurd. He finally
saw that. So he said to himself: "What does that boy want? How can
I tie up what I want to what he wants?"

It was easy for the father when he starting thinking about it. His boy
had a tricycle that he loved to ride up and down the sidewalk in front
of the house in Brooklyn. A few doors down the street lived a bully -
a bigger boy who would pull the little boy off his tricycle and ride it
himself.

Naturally, the little boy would run screaming to his mother, and she
would have to come out and take the bully off the tricycle and put
her little boy on again, This happened almost every day.

What did the little boy want? It didn't take a Sherlock Holmes to
answer that one. His pride, his anger, his desire for a feeling of
importance - all the strongest emotions in his makeup - goaded him
to get revenge, to smash the bully in the nose. And when his father
explained that the boy would be able to wallop the daylights out of
the bigger kid someday if he would only eat the things his mother
wanted him to eat - when his father promised him that - there was
no longer any problem of dietetics. That boy would have eaten
spinach, sauerkraut, salt mackerel - anything in order to be big
enough to whip the bully who had humiliated him so often.

After solving that problem, the parents tackled another: the little boy
had the unholy habit of wetting his bed.

He slept with his grandmother. In the morning, his grandmother
would wake up and feel the sheet and say: "Look, Johnny, what you
did again last night."

He would say: "No, I didn't do it. You did it."

Scolding, spanking, shaming him, reiterating that the parents didn't
want him to do it - none of these things kept the bed dry. So the
parents asked: "How can we make this boy want to stop wetting his
bed?"

What were his wants? First, he wanted to wear pajamas like Daddy
instead of wearing a nightgown like Grandmother. Grandmother was
getting fed up with his nocturnal iniquities, so she gladly offered to
buy him a pair of pajamas if he would reform. Second, he wanted a
bed of his own. Grandma didn't object.

His mother took him to a department store in Brooklyn, winked at
the salesgirl, and said: "Here is a little gentleman who would like to
do some shopping."

The salesgirl made him feel important by saying: "Young man, what
can I show you?"

He stood a couple of inches taller and said: "I want to buy a bed for
myself."

When he was shown the one his mother wanted him to buy, she
winked at the salesgirl and the boy was persuaded to buy it.

The bed was delivered the next day; and that night, when Father
came home, the little boy ran to the door shouting: "Daddy! Daddy!
Come upstairs and see my bed that I bought!"

The father, looking at the bed, obeyed Charles Schwab's injunction:
he was "hearty in his approbation and lavish in his praise."

"You are not going to wet this bed, are you?" the father said. " Oh,
no, no! I am not going to wet this bed." The boy kept his promise,
for his pride was involved. That was his bed. He and he alone had
bought it. And he was wearing pajamas now like a little man. He
wanted to act like a man. And he did.

Another father, K.T. Dutschmann, a telephone engineer, a student of
this course, couldn't get his three-year old daughter to eat breakfast
food. The usual scolding, pleading, coaxing methods had all ended in
futility. So the parents asked themselves: "How can we make her
want to do it?"

The little girl loved to imitate her mother, to feel big and grown up;
so one morning they put her on a chair and let her make the
breakfast food. At just the psychological moment, Father drifted into
the kitchen while she was stirring the cereal and she said: "Oh, look,
Daddy, I am making the cereal this morning."

She ate two helpings of the cereal without any coaxing, because she
was interested in it. She had achieved a feeling of importance; she
had found in making the cereal an avenue of self-expression.

William Winter once remarked that "self-expression is the dominant
necessity of human nature." Why can't we adapt this same
psychology to business dealings? When we have a brilliant idea,
instead of making others think it is ours, why not let them cook and
stir the idea themselves. They will then regard it as their own; they
will like it and maybe eat a couple of helpings of it.

Remember: "First, arouse in the other person an eager want. He
who can do this has the whole world with him. He who cannot walks
a lonely way."

• Principle 3 - Arouse in the other person an eager want.

In a Nutshell Fundamental Techniques In Handling People

• Principle 1 Don't criticize, condemn or complain.
• Principle 2 Give honest and sincere appreciation.
• Principle 3 Arouse in the other person an eager want.

---------------------------------

Part Two - Ways To Make People Like You

1 Do This And You'll Be Welcome Anywhere

Why read this book to find out how to win friends? Why not study
the technique of the greatest winner of friends the world has ever
known? Who is he? You may meet him tomorrow coming down the
street. When you get within ten feet of him, he will begin to wag his
tail. If you stop and pat him, he will almost jump out of his skin to
show you how much he likes you. And you know that behind this
show of affection on his part, there are no ulterior motives: he
doesn't want to sell you any real estate, and he doesn't want to
marry you.

Did you ever stop to think that a dog is the only animal that doesn't
have to work for a living? A hen has to lay eggs, a cow has to give
milk, and a canary has to sing. But a dog makes his living by giving
you nothing but love.

When I was five years old, my father bought a little yellow-haired
pup for fifty cents. He was the light and joy of my childhood. Every
afternoon about four-thirty, he would sit in the front yard with his
beautiful eyes staring steadfastly at the path, and as soon as he
heard my voice or saw me swinging my dinner pail through the buck
brush, he was off like a shot, racing breathlessly up the hill to greet
me with leaps of joy and barks of sheer ecstasy.

Tippy was my constant companion for five years. Then one tragic
night - I shall never forget it - he was killed within ten feet of my
head, killed by lightning. Tippy's death was the tragedy of my
boyhood.

You never read a book on psychology, Tippy. You didn't need to. You
knew by some divine instinct that you can make more friends in two
months by becoming genuinely interested in other people than you
can in two years by trying to get other people interested in you. Let
me repeat that. You can make more friends in two months by
becoming interested in other people than you can in two years by
trying to get other people interested in you.

Yet I know and you know people who blunder through life trying to
wigwag other people into becoming interested in them.

Of course, it doesn't work. People are not interested in you. They are
not interested in me. They are interested in themselves - morning,
noon and after dinner.

The New York Telephone Company made a detailed study of
telephone conversations to find out which word is the most
frequently used. You have guessed it: it is the personal pronoun "I."
"I." I." It was used 3,900 times in 500 telephone conversations. "I."
"I." "I." "I." When you see a group photograph that you are in,
whose picture do you look for first?

If we merely try to impress people and get people interested in us,
we will never have many true, sincere friends. Friends, real friends,
are not made that way.

Napoleon tried it, and in his last meeting with Josephine he said:
"Josephine, I have been as fortunate as any man ever was on this
earth; and yet, at this hour, you are the only person in the world on
whom I can rely." And historians doubt whether he could rely even
on her.

Alfred Adler, the famous Viennese psychologist, wrote a book
entitled What Life Should Mean to You. In that book he says: "It is
the individual who is not interested in his fellow men who has the
greatest difficulties in life and provides the greatest injury to others.
It is from among such individuals that all human failures spring."

You may read scores of erudite tomes on psychology without coming
across a statement more significant for you and for me. Adler's
statement is so rich with meaning that I am going to repeat it in
italics:

It is the individual who is not interested in his fellow men who has
the greatest difjculties in life and provides the greutest injury to
others. It is from umong such individuals that all humun failures
spring.

I once took a course in short-story writing at New York University,
and during that course the editor of a leading magazine talked to our
class. He said he could pick up any one of the dozens of stories that
drifted across his desk every day and after reading a few paragraphs
he could feel whether or not the author liked people. "If the author
doesn't like people," he said, "people won't like his or her stories."

This hard-boiled editor stopped twice in the course of his talk on
fiction writing and apologized for preaching a sermon. "I am telling
you," he said, "the same things your preacher would tell you, but

remember, you have to be interested in people if you want to be a
successful writer of stories."

If that is true of writing fiction, you can be sure it is true of dealing
with people face-to-face.

I spent an evening in the dressing room of Howard Thurston the last
time he appeared on Broadway -Thurston was the acknowledged
dean of magicians. For forty years he had traveled all over the world,
time and again, creating illusions, mystifying audiences, and making
people gasp with astonishment. More than 60 million people had
paid admission to his show, and he had made almost $2 million in
profit.

I asked Mr. Thurston to tell me the secret of his success. His
schooling certainly had nothing to do with it, for he ran away from
home as a small boy, became a hobo, rode in boxcars, slept in
haystacks, begged his food from door to door, and learned to read
by looking out of boxcars at signs along the railway.

Did he have a superior knowledge of magic? No, he told me
hundreds of books had been written about legerdemain and scores
of people knew as much about it as he did. But he had two things
that the others didn't have. First, he had the ability to put his
personality across the footlights. He was a master showman. He
knew human nature. Everything he did, every gesture, every
intonation of his voice, every lifting of an eyebrow had been carefully
rehearsed in advance, and his actions were timed to split seconds.
But, in addition to that, Thurston had a genuine interest in people.
He told me that many magicians would look at the audience and say
to themselves, "Well, there is a bunch of suckers out there, a bunch
of hicks; I'll fool them all right." But Thurston's method was totally
different. He told me that every time he went on stage he said to
himself: "I am grateful because these people come to see me, They
make it possible for me to make my living in a very agreeable way.
I'm going to give them the very best I possibly can."

He declared he never stepped in front of the footlights without first
saying to himself over and over: "I love my audience. I love my
audience." Ridiculous? Absurd? You are privileged to think anything
you like. I am merely passing it on to you without comment as a
recipe used by one of the most famous magicians of all time.

George Dyke of North Warren, Pennsylvania, was forced to retire
from his service station business after thirty years when a new
highway was constructed over the site of his station. It wasn't long
before the idle days of retirement began to bore him, so he started
filling in his time trying to play music on his old fiddle. Soon he was
traveling the area to listen to music and talk with many of the
accomplished fiddlers. In his humble and friendly way he became

generally interested in learning the background and interests of
every musician he met. Although he was not a great fiddler himself,
he made many friends in this pursuit. He attended competitions and
soon became known to the country music fans in the eastern part of
the United States as "Uncle George, the Fiddle Scraper from Kinzua
County." When we heard Uncle George, he was seventy-two and
enjoying every minute of his life. By having a sustained interest in
other people, he created a new life for himself at a time when most
people consider their productive years over.

That, too, was one of the secrets of Theodore Roosevelt's
astonishing popularity. Even his servants loved him. His valet, James
E. Amos, wrote a book about him entitled Theodore Roosevelt, Hero
to His Valet. In that book Amos relates this illuminating incident:

My wife one time asked the President about a bobwhite. She had
never seen one and he described it to her fully. Sometime later, the
telephone at our cottage rang. [Amos and his wife lived in a little
cottage on the Roosevelt estate at Oyster Bay.] My wife answered it
and it was Mr. Roosevelt himself. He had called her, he said, to tell
her that there was a bobwhite outside her window and that if she
would look out she might see it. Little things like that were so
characteristic of him. Whenever he went by our cottage, even
though we were out of sight, we would hear him call out: "Oo-oo-oo,
Annie?" or "Oo-oo-oo, James!" It was just a friendly greeting as he
went by.

How could employees keep from liking a man like that? How could
anyone keep from liking him? Roosevelt called at the White House
one day when the President and Mrs. Taft were away. His honest
liking for humble people was shown by the fact that he greeted all
the old White House servants by name, even the scullery maids.

"When he saw Alice, the kitchen maid," writes Archie Butt, "he asked
her if she still made corn bread. Alice told him that she sometimes
made it for the servants, but no one ate it upstairs.

"'They show bad taste,' Roosevelt boomed, 'and I'll tell the President
so when I see him.'

"Alice brought a piece to him on a plate, and he went over to the
office eating it as he went and greeting gardeners and laborers as he
passed. . .

"He addressed each person just as he had addressed them in the
past. Ike Hoover, who had been head usher at the White House for
forty years, said with tears in his eyes: 'It is the only happy day we
had in nearly two years, and not one of us would exchange it for a
hundred-dollar bill.' "

The same concern for the seemingly unimportant people helped
sales representative Edward M. Sykes, Jr., of Chatham, New Jersey,
retain an account. "Many years ago," he reported, "I called on
customers for Johnson and Johnson in the Massachusetts area. One
account was a drug store in Hingham. Whenever I went into this
store I would always talk to the soda clerk and sales clerk for a few
minutes before talking to the owner to obtain his order. One day I
went up to the owner of the store, and he told me to leave as he
was not interested in buying J&J products anymore because he felt
they were concentrating their activities on food and discount stores
to the detriment of the small drugstore. I left with my tail between
my legs and drove around the town for several hours. Finally, I
decided to go back and try at least to explain our position to the
owner of the store.

"When I returned I walked in and as usual said hello to the soda
clerk and sales clerk. When I walked up to the owner, he smiled at
me and welcomed me back. He then gave me double the usual
order, I looked at him with surprise and asked him what had
happened since my visit only a few hours earlier. He pointed to the
young man at the soda fountain and said that after I had left, the
boy had come over and said that I was one of the few salespeople
that called on the store that even bothered to say hello to him and to
the others in the store. He told the owner that if any salesperson
deserved his business, it was I. The owner agreed and remained a
loyal customer. I never forgot that to be genuinely interested in
other people is a most important quality for a sales-person to
possess - for any person, for that matter."

I have discovered from personal experience that one can win the
attention and time and cooperation of even the most sought-after
people by becoming genuinely interested in them. Let me illustrate.

Years ago I conducted a course in fiction writing at the Brooklyn
Institute of Arts and Sciences, and we wanted such distinguished and
busy authors as Kathleen Norris, Fannie Hurst, Ida Tarbell, Albert
Payson Terhune and Rupert Hughes to come to Brooklyn and give us
the benefit of their experiences. So we wrote them, saying we
admired their work and were deeply interested in getting their advice
and learning the secrets of their success.

Each of these letters was signed by about a hundred and fifty
students. We said we realized that these authors were busy - too
busy to prepare a lecture. So we enclosed a list of questions for
them to answer about themselves and their methods of work. They
liked that. Who wouldn't like it? So they left their homes and traveled
to Brooklyn to give us a helping hand.

By using the same method, I persuaded Leslie M. Shaw, secretary of
the treasury in Theodore Roosevelt's cabinet; George W.

Wickersham, attorney general in Taft's cabinet; William Jennings
Bryan; Franklin D. Roosevelt and many other prominent men to
come to talk to the students of my courses in public speaking.

All of us, be we workers in a factory, clerks in an office or even a
king upon his throne - all of us like people who admire us. Take the
German Kaiser, for example. At the close of World War I he was
probably the most savagely and universally despised man on this
earth. Even his own nation turned against him when he fled over into
Holland to save his neck. The hatred against him was so intense that
millions of people would have loved to tear him limb from limb or
burn him at the stake. In the midst of all this forest fire of fury, one
little boy wrote the Kaiser a simple, sincere letter glowing with
kindliness and admiration. This little boy said that no matter what
the others thought, he would always love Wilhelm as his Emperor.
The Kaiser was deeply touched by his letter and invited the little boy
to come to see him. The boy came, so did his mother - and the
Kaiser married her. That little boy didn't need to read a book on how
to win friends and influence people. He knew how instinctively.

If we want to make friends, let's put ourselves out to do things for
other people - things that require time, energy, unselfishness and
thoughtfulness. When the Duke of Windsor was Prince of Wales, he
was scheduled to tour South America, and before he started out on
that tour he spent months studying Spanish so that he could make
public talks in the language of the country; and the South Americans
loved him for it.

For years I made it a point to find out the birthdays of my friends.
How? Although I haven't the foggiest bit of faith in astrology, I
began by asking the other party whether he believed the date of
one's birth has anything to do with character and disposition. I then
asked him or her to tell me the month and day of birth. If he or she
said November 24, for example, I kept repeating to myself,
"November 24, November 24." The minute my friend's back was
turned, I wrote down the name and birthday and later would transfer
it to a birthday book. At the beginning of each year, I had these
birthday dates scheduled in my calendar pad so that they came to
my attention automatically. When the natal day arrived, there was
my letter or telegram. What a hit it made! I was frequently the only
person on earth who remembered.

If we want to make friends, let's greet people with animation and
enthusiasm. When somebody calls you on the telephone use the
same psychology. Say "Hello" in tones that bespeak how pleased
YOU are to have the person call. Many companies train their
telephone operatars to greet all callers in a tone of voice that
radiates interest and enthusiasm. The caller feels the company is
concerned about them. Let's remember that when we answer the
telephone tomorrow.

Showing a genuine interest in others not only wins friends for you,
but may develop in its customers a loyalty to your company. In an
issue of the publication of the National Bank of North America of
New York, the following letter from Madeline Rosedale, a depositor,
was published: *

* Eagle, publication of the Natirmal Bank of North America, h-ew
York, March 31, 1978.

"I would like you to know how much I appreciate your staff.
Everyone is so courteous, polite and helpful. What a pleasure it is,
after waiting on a long line, to have the teller greet you pleasantly.

"Last year my mother was hospitalized for five months. Frequently I
went to Marie Petrucello, a teller. She was concerned about my
mother and inquired about her progress."

Is there any doubt that Mrs. Rosedale will continue to use this bank?

Charles R. Walters, of one of the large banks in New York City, was
assigned to prepare a confidential report on a certain corporation. He
knew of only one person who possessed the facts he needed so
urgently. As Mr. Walters was ushered into the president's office, a
young woman stuck her head through a door and told the president
that she didn't have any stamps for him that day.

"I am collecting stamps for my twelve-year-old son," the president
explained to Mr. Walters.

Mr. Walters stated his mission and began asking questions. The
president was vague, general, nebulous. He didn't want to talk, and
apparently nothing could persuade him to talk. The interview was
brief and barren.

"Frankly, I didn't know what to do," Mr. Walters said as he related
the story to the class. "Then I remembered what his secretary had
said to him - stamps, twelve-year-old son. . . And I also recalled that
the foreign department of our bank collected stamps - stamps taken
from letters pouring in from every continent washed by the seven
seas.

"The next afternoon I called on this man and sent in word that I had
some stamps for his boy. Was I ushered in with enthusiasm? Yes sir,
He couldn't have shaken my hand with more enthusiasm if he had
been running for Congress. He radiated smiles and good will. 'My
George will love this one,' he kept saying as he fondled the stamps.
'And look at this! This is a treasure.'

"We spent half an hour talking stamps and looking at a picture of his
boy, and he then devoted more than an hour of his time to giving
me every bit of information I wanted - without my even suggesting
that he do it. He told me all he knew, and then called in his
subordinates and questioned them. He telephoned some of his
associates. He loaded me down with facts, figures, reports and
correspondence. In the parlance of newspaper reporters, I had a
scoop."

Here is another illustration:

C. M. Knaphle, Jr., of Philadelphia had tried for years to sell fuel to a
large chain-store organization. But the chain-store company
continued to purchase its fuel from an out-of-town dealer and haul it
right past the door of Knaphle's office. Mr, Knaphle made a speech
one night before one of my classes, pouring out his hot wrath upon
chain stores, branding them as a curse to the nation.

And still he wondered why he couldn't sell them.

I suggested that he try different tactics. To put it briefly, this is what
happened. We staged a debate between members of the course on
whether the spread of the chain store is doing the country more
harm than good.

Knaphle, at my suggestion, took the negative side; he agreed to
defend the chain stores, and then went straight to an executive of
the chain-store organization that he despised and said: "I am not
here to try to sell fuel. I have come to ask you to do me a favor." He
then told about his debate and said, "I have come to you for help
because I can't think of anyone else who would be more capable of
giving me the facts I want. I'm anxious to win this debate, and I'll
deeply appreciate whatever help you can give me."

Here is the rest of the story in Mr. Knaphle's own words:

I had asked this man for precisely one minute of his time. It was
with that understanding that he consented to see me. After I had
stated my case, he motioned me to a chair and talked to me for
exactly one hour and forty-seven minutes. He called in another
executive who had written a book on chain stores. He wrote to the
National Chain Store Association and secured for me a copy of a
debate on the subject. He feels that the chain store is rendering a
real service to humanity. He is proud of what he is doing for
hundreds of communities. His eyes fairly glowed as he talked, and I
must confess that he opened my eyes to things I had never even
dreamed of. He changed my whole mental attitude. As I was leaving,
he walked with me to the door, put his arm around my shoulder,
wished me well in my debate, and asked me to stop in and see him
again and let him know how I made out. The last words he said to

me were: "Please see me again later in the spring. I should like to
place an order with you for fuel."

To me that was almost a miracle. Here he was offering to buy fuel
without my even suggesting it. I had made more headway in two
hours by becoming genuinely interested in him and his problems
than I could have made in ten years trying to get him interested in
me and my product.

You didn't discover a new truth, Mr. Knaphle, for a long time ago, a
hundred years before Christ was born a famous old Roman poet,
Publilius Syrus, remarked; "We are interested in others when they
are interested in us."

A show of interest, as with every other principle of human relations,
must be sincere. It must pay off not only for the person showing the
interest, but for the person receiving the attention. It is a two-way
street-both parties benefit.

Martin Ginsberg, who took our Course in Long Island New York,
reported how the special interest a nurse took in him profoundly
affected his life:

"It was Thanksgiving Day and I was ten years old. I was in a welfare
ward of a city hospital and was scheduled to undergo major
orthopedic surgery the next day. I knew that I could only look
forward to months of confinement, convalescence and pain. My
father was dead; my mother and I lived alone in a small apartment
and we were on welfare. My mother was unable to visit me that day.

"As the day went on, I became overwhelmed with the feeling of
loneliness, despair and fear. I knew my mother was home alone
worrying about me, not having anyone to be with, not having anyone
to eat with and not even having enough money to afford a
Thanksgiving Day dinner.

"The tears welled up in my eyes, and I stuck my head under the
pillow and pulled the covers over it, I cried silently, but oh so bitterly,
so much that my body racked with pain.

"A young student nurse heard my sobbing and came over to me. She
took the covers off my face and started wiping my tears. She told me
how lonely she was, having to work that day and not being able to
be with her family. She asked me whether I would have dinner with
her. She brought two trays of food: sliced turkey, mashed a
potatoes, cranberry sauce and ice cream for dessert. She talked to
me and tried to calm my fears. Even though she was scheduled to go
off duty at 4 P.M., she stayed on her own time until almost 11 P.M.
She played games with me, talked to me and stayed with me until I
finally fell asleep.

"Many Thanksgivings have come and gone since I was ten, but one
never passes without me remembering that particular one and my
feelings of frustration, fear, loneliness and the warmth and
tenderness of the stranger that somehow made it all bearable."

If you want others to like you, if you want to develop real
friendships, if you want to help others at the same time as you help
yourself, keep this principle in mind:

• Principle 1 Become genuinely interested in other people.

~~~~~~~

2 - A Simple Way To Make A Good First Impression

At a dinner party in New York, one of the guests, a woman who had
inherited money, was eager to make a pleasing impression on
everyone. She had squandered a modest fortune on sables,
diamonds and pearls. But she hadn't done anything whatever about
her face. It radiated sourness and selfishness. She didn't realize what
everyone knows: namely, that the expression one wears on one's
face is far more important than the clothes one wears on one's back.

Charles Schwab told me his smile had been worth a million dollars.
And he was probably understating the truth. For Schwab's
personality, his charm, his ability to make people like him, were
almost wholly responsible for his extraordinary success; and one of
the most delightful factors in his personality was his captivating
smile.

Actions speak louder than words, and a smile says, "I like you, You
make me happy. I am glad to see you." That is why dogs make such
a hit. They are so glad to see us that they almost jump out of their
skins. So, naturally, we are glad to see them.

A baby's smile has the same effect.

Have you ever been in a doctor's waiting room and looked around at
all the glum faces waiting impatiently to be seen? Dr, Stephen K.
Sproul, a veterinarian in Raytown, Missouri, told of a typical spring
day when his waiting room was full of clients waiting to have their
pets inoculated. No one was talking to anyone else, and all were
probably thinking of a dozen other things they would rather be doing
than "wasting time" sitting in that office. He told one of our classes:
"There were six or seven clients waiting when a young woman came
in with a nine-month-old baby and a kitten. As luck would have it,
she sat down next to a gentleman who was more than a little
distraught about the long wait for service. The next thing he knew,
the baby just looked up at him with that great big smile that is so

characteristic of babies. What did that gentleman do? Just what you
and I would do, of course; he-smiled back at the baby. Soon he
struck up a conversation with the woman about her baby and his
grandchildren, and soon the entire reception room joined in, and the
boredom and tension were converted into a pleasant and enjoyable
experience."

An insincere grin? No. That doesn't fool anybody. We know it is
mechanical and we resent it. I am talking about a real smile, a
heartwarming smile, a smile that comes from within, the kind of
smile that will bring a good price in the marketplace.

Professor James V. McConnell, a psychologist at the University of
Michigan, expressed his feelings about a smile. "People who smile,"
he said, "tend to manage teach and sell more effectively, and to
raise happier children. There's far more information in a smile than a
frown. That's why encouragement is a much more effective teaching
device than punishment."

The employment manager of a large New York department store told
me she would rather hire a sales clerk who hadn't finished grade
school, if he or she has a pleasant smile, than to hire a doctor of
philosophy with a somber face.

The effect of a smile is powerful - even when it is unseen. Telephone
companies throughout the United States have a program called
"phone power" which is offered to employees who use the telephone
for selling their services or products. In this program they suggest
that you smile when talking on the phone. Your "smile" comes
through in your voice.

Robert Cryer, manager of a computer department for a Cincinnati,
Ohio, company, told how he had successfully found the right
applicant for a hard-to-fill position:

"I was desperately trying to recruit a Ph.D. in computer science for
my department. I finally located a young man with ideal
qualifications who was about to be graduated from Purdue
University. After several phone conversations I learned that he had
several offers from other companies, many of them larger and better
known than mine. I was delighted when he accepted my offer. After
he started on the job, I asked him why he had chosen us over the
others. He paused for a moment and then he said: 'I think it was
because managers in the other companies spoke on the phone in a
cold, business-like manner, which made me feel like just another
business transaction, Your voice sounded as if you were glad to hear
from me ... that you really wanted me to be part of your
organization. ' You can be assured, I am still answering my phone
with a smile."

The chairman of the board of directors of one of the largest rubber
companies 'in the United States told me that, according to his
observations, people rarely succeed at anything unless they have fun
doing it. This industrial leader doesn't put much faith in the old
adage that hard work alone is the magic key that will unlock the door
to our desires, "I have known people," he said, "who succeeded
because they had a rip-roaring good time conducting their business.
Later, I saw those people change as the fun became work. The
business had grown dull, They lost all joy in it, and they failed."

You must have a good time meeting people if you expect them to
have a good time meeting you.

I have asked thousands of business people to smile at someone
every hour of the day for a week and then come to class and talk
about the results. How did it work? Let's see ... Here is a letter from
William B. Steinhardt, a New York stockbroker. His case isn't isolated.
In fact, it is typical of hundreds of cases.

"1 have been married for over eighteen years," wrote Mr. Steinhardt,
"and in all that time I seldom smiled at my wife or spoke two dozen
words to her from the time I got up until I was ready to leave for
business. I was one of the worst grouches who ever walked down
Broadway.

"When you asked me to make a talk about my experience with
smiles, I thought I would try it for a week. So the next morning,
while combing my hair, I looked at my glum mug in the mirror and
said to myself, 'Bill, you are going to wipe the scowl off that sour
puss of yours today. You are going to smile. And you are going to
begin right now.' As I sat down to breakfast, I greeted my wife with
a 'Good morning, my dear,' and smiled as I said it.

"You warned me that she might be surprised. Well, you
underestimated her reaction. She was bewildered. She was shocked.
I told her that in the future she could expect this as a regular
occurrence, and I kept it up every morning.

"This changed attitude of mine brought more happiness into our
home in the two months since I started than there was during the
last year.

"As I leave for my office, I greet the elevator operator in the
apartment house with a 'Good morning' and a smile, I greet the
doorman with a smile. I smile at the cashier in the subway booth
when I ask for change. As I stand on the floor of the Stock
Exchange, I smile at people who until recently never saw me smile.

"I soon found that everybody was smiling back at me, I treat those
who come to me with complaints or grievances in a cheerful manner,

I smile as I listen to them and I find that adjustments are
accomplished much easier. I find that smiles are bringing me dollars,
many dollars every day.

"I share my office with another broker. One of his clerks is a likable
young chap, and I was so elated about the results I was getting that
I told him recently about my new philosophy of human relations. He
then confessed that when I first came to share my office with his
firm he thought me a terrible grouch - and only recently changed his
mind. He said I was really human when I smiled.

"I have also eliminated criticism from my system. I give appreciation
and praise now instead of condemnation. I have stopped talking
about what I want. I am now trying to see the other person's
viewpoint. And these things have literally revolutionized my life. I am
a totally different man, a happier man, a richer man, richer in
friendships and happiness - the only things that matter much after
all."

You don't feel like smiling? Then what? Two things. First, force
yourself to smile. If you are alone, force yourself to whistle or hum a
tune or sing. Act as if you were already happy, and that will tend to
make you happy. Here is the way the psychologist and philosopher
William James put it:

"Action seems to follow feeling, but really action and feeling go
together; and by regulating the action, which is under the more
direct control of the will, we can indirectly regulate the feeling, which
is not.

"Thus the sovereign voluntary path to cheerfulness, if our
cheerfulness be lost, is to sit up cheerfully and to act and speak as if
cheerfulness were already there. ..."

Every body in the world is seeking happiness - and there is one sure
way to find it. That is by controlling your thoughts. Happiness
doesn't depend on outward conditions. It depends on inner
conditions.

It isn't what you have or who you are or where you are or what you
are doing that makes you happy or unhappy. It is what you think
about it. For example, two people may be in the same place, doing
the same thing; both may have about an equal amount of money
and prestige - and yet one may be miserable and the other happy.
Why? Because of a different mental attitude. I have seen just as
many happy faces among the poor peasants toiling with their
primitive tools in the devastating heat of the tropics as I have seen in
air-conditioned offices in New York, Chicago or Los Angeles.

"There is nothing either good or bad," said Shakespeare, "but
thinking makes it so."

Abe Lincoln once remarked that "most folks are about as happy as
they make up their minds to be." He was right. I saw a vivid
illustration of that truth as I was walking up the stairs of the Long
Island Railroad station in New York. Directly in front of me thirty or
forty crippled boys on canes and crutches were struggling up the
stairs. One boy had to be carried up. I was astonished at their
laughter and gaiety. I spoke about it to one of.the men in charge of
the boys. "Oh, yes," he said, "when a boy realizes that he is going to
be a cripple for life, he is shocked at first; but after he gets over the
shock, he usually resigns himself to his fate and then becomes as
happy as normal boys."

I felt like taking my hat off to those boys. They taught me a lesson I
hope I shall never forget.

Working all by oneself in a closed-off room in an office not only is
lonely, but it denies one the opportunity of making friends with other
employees in the company. Seсora Maria Gonzalez of Guadalajara,
Mexico, had such a job. She envied the shared comradeship of other
people in the company as she heard their chatter and laughter. As
she passed them in the hall during the first weeks of her
employment, she shyly looked the other way.

After a few weeks, she said to herself, "Maria, you can't expect those
women to come to you. You have to go out and meet them. " The
next time she walked to the water cooler, she put on her brightest
smile and said, "Hi, how are you today" to each of the people she
met. The effect was immediate. Smiles and hellos were returned, the
hallway seemed brighter, the job friendlier.

Acquaintanceships developed and some ripened into friendships. Her
job and her life became more pleasant and interesting.

Peruse this bit of sage advice from the essayist and publisher Elbert
Hubbard - but remember, perusing it won't do you any good unless
you apply it:

Whenever you go out-of-doors, draw the chin in, carry the crown of
the head high, and fill the lungs to the utmost; drink in the sunshine;
greet your friends with a smile, and put soul into every handclasp.
Do not fear being misunderstood and do not waste a minute thinking
about your enemies. Try to fix firmly in your mind what you would
like to do; and then, without veering off direction, you will move
straight to the goal. Keep your mind on the great and splendid things
you would like to do, and then, as the days go gliding away, you will
find yourself unconsciously seizing upon the opportunities that are
required for the fulfillment of your desire, just as the coral insect

takes from the running tide the element it needs. Picture in your
mind the able, earnest, useful person you desire to be, and the
thought you hold is hourly transforming you into that particular
individual.. . . Thought is supreme. Preserve a right mental attitude -
the attitude of courage, frankness, and good cheer. To think rightly
is to create. All things come through desire and every sincere prayer
is answered. We become like that on which our hearts are fixed.
Carry your chin in and the crown of your head high. We are gods in
the chrysalis.

The ancient Chinese were a wise lot - wise in the ways of the world;
and they had a proverb that you and I ought to cut out and paste
inside our hats. It goes like this: "A man without a smiling face must
not open a shop."

Your smile is a messenger of your good will. Your smile brightens the
lives of all who see it. To someone who has seen a dozen people
frown, scowl or turn their faces away, your smile is like the sun
breaking through the clouds. Especially when that someone is under
pressure from his bosses, his customers, his teachers or parents or
children, a smile can help him realize that all is not hopeless - that
there is joy in the world.

Some years ago, a department store in New York City, in recognition
of the pressures its sales clerks were under during the Christmas
rush, presented the readers of its advertisements with the following
homely philosophy:

The Value Of A Smile At Christmas

It costs nothing, but creates much. It enriches those who receive,
without impoverishing those who give. It happens in a flash and the
memory of it sometimes lasts forever, None are so rich they can get
along without it, and none so poor but are richer for its benefits. It
creates happiness in the home, fosters good will in a business, and is
the countersign of friends. It is rest to the weary, daylight to the
discouraged, sunshine to the sad, and Nature's best antidote fee
trouble. Yet it cannot be bought, begged, borrowed, or stolen, for it
is something that is no earthly good to anybody till it is given away.
And if in the last-minute rush of Christmas buying some of our
salespeople should be too tired to give you a smile, may we ask you
to leave one of yours? For nobody needs a smile so much as those
who have none left to give!

• Principle 2 - Smile.

~~~~~~~

3 - If You Don't Do This, You Are Headed For Trouble

Back in 1898, a tragic thing happened in Rockland County, New
York. A child had died, and on this particular day the neighbors were
preparing to go to the funeral.

Jim Farley went out to the barn to hitch up his horse. The ground
was covered with snow, the air was cold and snappy; the horse
hadn't been exercised for days; and as he was led out to the
watering trough, he wheeled playfully, kicked both his heels high in
the air, and killed Jim Farley. So the little village of Stony Point had
two funerals that week instead of one.

Jim Farley left behind him a widow and three boys, and a few
hundred dollars in insurance.

His oldest boy, Jim, was ten, and he went to work in a brickyard,
wheeling sand and pouring it into the molds and turning the brick on
edge to be dried by the sun. This boy Jim never had a chance to get
much education. But with his natural geniality, he had a flair for
making people like him, so he went into politics, and as the years
went by, he developed an uncanny ability for remembering people's
names.

He never saw the inside of a high school; but before he was forty-six
years of age, four colleges had honored him with degrees and he
had become chairman of the Democratic National Committee and
Postmaster General of the United States.

I once interviewed Jim Farley and asked him the secret of his
success. He said, "Hard work," and I said, "Don't be funny."

He then asked me what I thought was the reason for his success. I
replied: "I understand you can call ten thousand people by their first
names."

"No. You are wrong, " he said. "I can call fifty thousand people by
their first names."

Make no mistake about it. That ability helped Mr. Farley put Franklin
D. Roosevelt in the White House when he managed Roosevelt's
campaign in 1932.

During the years that Jim Farley traveled as a salesman for a gypsum
concern, and during the years that he held office as town clerk in
Stony Point, he built up a system for remembering names.

In the beginning, it was a very simple one. Whenever he met a new
acquaintance, he found out his or her complete name and some
facts about his or her family, business and political opinions. He fixed
all these facts well in mind as part of the picture, and the next time
he met that person, even if it was a year later, he was able to shake

hands, inquire after the family, and ask about the hollyhocks in the
backyard. No wonder he developed a following!

For months before Roosevelt's campaign for President began, Jim
Farley wrote hundreds of letters a day to people all over the western
and northwestern states. Then he hopped onto a train and in
nineteen days covered twenty states and twelve thousand miles,
traveling by buggy, train, automobile and boat. He would drop into
town, meet his people at lunch or breakfast, tea or dinner, and give
them a "heart-to-heart talk." Then he'd dash off again on another leg
of his journey.

As soon as he arrived back East, he wrote to one person in each
town he had visited, asking for a list of all the guests to whom he
had talked. The final list contained thousands and thousands of
names; yet each person on that list was paid the subtle flattery of
getting a personal letter from James Farley. These letters began
"Dear Bill" or "Dear Jane," and they were always signed "Jim."

Jim Farley discovered early in life that the average person is more
interested in his or her own name than in all the other names on
earth put together. Remember that name and call it easily, and you
have paid a subtle and very effective compliment. But forget it or
misspell it - and you have placed yourself at a sharp disadvantage.
For example, I once organized a public-speaking course in Paris and
sent form letters to all the American residents in the city. French
typists with apparently little knowledge of English filled in the names
and naturally they made blunders. One man, the manager of a large
American bank in Paris, wrote me a scathing rebuke because his
name had been misspelled.

Sometimes it is difficult to remember a name, particularly if it is hard
to pronounce. Rather than even try to learn it, many people ignore it
or call the person by an easy nickname. Sid Levy called on a
customer for some time whose name was Nicodemus Papadoulos.
Most people just called him "Nick." Levy told us: "I made a special
effort to say his name over several times to myself before I made my
call. When I greeted him by his full name: 'Good afternoon, Mr.
Nicodemus Papadoulos,' he was shocked. For what seemed like
several minutes there was no reply from him at all. Finally, he said
with tears rolling down his cheeks, 'Mr. Levy, in all the fifteen years I
have been in this country, nobody has ever made the effort to call
me by my right name.' "

What was the reason for Andrew Carnegie's success?

He was called the Steel King; yet he himself knew little about the
manufacture of steel. He had hundreds of people working for him
who knew far more about steel than he did.

But he knew how to handle people, and that is what made him rich.
Early in life, he showed a flair for organization, a genius for
leadership. By the time he was ten, he too had discovered the
astounding importance people place on their own name. And he
used that discovery to win cooperation. To illustrate: When he was a
boy back in Scotland, he got hold of a rabbit, a mother rabbit.
Presto! He soon had a whole nest of little rabbits - and nothing to
feed them. But he had a brilliant idea. He told the boys and girls in
the neighborhood that if they would go out and pull enough clover
and dandelions to feed the rabbits, he would name the bunnies in
their honor.

The plan worked like magic, and Carnegie never forgot it.

Years later, he made millions by using the same psychology in
business. For example, he wanted to sell steel rails to the
Pennsylvania Railroad. J. Edgar Thomson was the president of the
Pennsylvania Railroad then. So Andrew Carnegie built a huge steel
mill in Pittsburgh and called it the "Edgar Thomson Steel Works."

Here is a riddle. See if you can guess it. When the Pennsylvania
Railroad needed steel rails, where do you suppose J. Edgar Thomson
bought them?. . , From Sears, Roebuck? No. No. You're wrong.
Guess again. When Carnegie and George Pullman were battling each
other for supremacy in the railroad sleeping-car business, the Steel
King again remembered the lesson of the rabbits.

The Central Transportation Company, which Andrew Carnegie
controlled, was fighting with the company that Pullman owned. Both
were struggling to get the sleeping-car business of the Union Pacific
Railroad, bucking each other, slashing prices, and destroving all
chance of profit. Both Carnegie and Pullman had gone to New York
to see the board of directors of the Union Pacific. Meeting one
evening in the St. Nicholas Hotel, Carnegie said: "Good evening, Mr.
Pullman, aren't we making a couple of fools of ourselves?"

"What do you mean.?" Pullman demanded.

Then Carnegie expressed what he had on his mind - a merger of
their two interests. He pictured in glowing terms the mutual
advantages of working with, instead of against, each other. Pullman
listened attentively, but he was not wholly convinced. Finally he
asked, "What would you call the new company?" and Carnegie
replied promptly: "Why, the Pullman Palace Car Company, of
course."

Pullman's face brightened. "Come into my room," he said. "Let's talk
it over." That talk made industrial history.

This policy of remembering and honoring the names of his friends
and business associates was one of the secrets of Andrew Carnegie's
leadership. He was proud of the fact that he could call many of his
factory workers by their first names, and he boasted that while he
was personally in charge, no strike ever disturbed his flaming steel
mills.

Benton Love, chairman of Texas Commerce Banc-shares, believes
that the bigger a corporation gets, the colder it becomes. " One way
to warm it up," he said, "is to remember people's names. The
executive who tells me he can't remember names is at the same time
telling me he can't remember a significant part of his business and is
operating on quicksand."

Karen Kirsech of Rancho Palos Verdes, California, a flight attendant
for TWA, made it a practice to learn the names of as many
passengers in her cabin as possible and use the name when serving
them. This resulted in many compliments on her service expressed
both to her directly and to the airline. One passenger wrote: "I
haven't flown TWA for some time, but I'm going to start flying
nothing but TWA from now on. You make me feel that your airline
has become a very personalized airline and that is important to me."

People are so proud of their names that they strive to perpetuate
them at any cost. Even blustering, hard-boiled old P. T. Barnum, the
greatest showman of his time, disappointed because he had no sons
to carry on his name, offered his grandson, C. H. Seeley, $25,000
dollars if he would call himself "Barnum" Seeley.

For many centuries, nobles and magnates supported artists,
musicians and authors so that their creative works would be
dedicated to them.

Libraries and museums owe their richest collections to people who
cannot bear to think that their names might perish from the memory
of the race. The New York Public Library has its Astor and Lenox
collections. The Metropolitan Museum perpetuates the names of
Benjamin Altman and J. P. Morgan. And nearly every church is
beautified by stained-glass windows commemorating the names of
their donors. Many of the buildings on the campus of most
universities bear the names of donors who contributed large sums of
money for this honor.

Most people don't remember names, for the simple reason that they
don't take the time and energy necessary to concentrate and repeat
and fix names indelibly in their minds. They make excuses for
themselves; they are too busy.

But they were probably no busier than Franklin D. Roosevelt, and he
took time to remember and recall even the names of mechanics with
whom he came into contact.

To illustrate: The Chrysler organization built a special car for Mr.
Roosevelt, who could not use a standard car because his legs were
paralyzed. W. F. Chamberlain and a mechanic delivered it to the
White House. I have in front of me a letter from Mr. Chamberlain
relating his experiences. "I taught President Roosevelt how to handle
a car with a lot of unusual gadgets, but he taught me a lot about the
fine art of handling people.

"When I called at the White House," Mr. Chamberlain writes, "the
President was extremely pleasant and cheerful. He called me by
name, made me feel very comfortable, and particularly impressed
me with the fact that he was vitally interested in things I had to
show him and tell him. The car was so designed that it could be
operated entirely by hand. A crowd gathered around to look at the
car; and he remarked: 'I think it is marvelous. All you have to do is
to touch a button and it moves away and you can drive it without
effort. I think it is grand - I don't know what makes it go. I'd love to
have the time to tear it down and see how it works.'

"When Roosevelt's friends and associates admired the machine, he
said in their presence: 'Mr. Chamberlain, I certainly appreciate all the
time and effort you have spent in developing this car. It is a mighty
fine job.' He admired the radiator, the special rear-vision mirror and
clock, the special spotlight, the kind of upholstery, the sitting position
of the driver's seat, the special suitcases in the trunk with his
monogram on each suitcase. In other words, he took notice of every
detail to which he knew I had given considerable thought. He made
a point of bringing these various pieces of equipment to the attention
of Mrs. Roosevelt, Miss Perkins, the Secretary of Labor, and his
secretary. He even brought the old White House porter into the
picture by saying, 'George, you want to take particularly good care of
the suitcases.'

"When the driving lesson was finished, the President turned to me
and said: 'Well, Mr. Chamberlain, I have been keeping the Federal
Reserve Board waiting thirty minutes. I guess I had better get back
to work.'

"I took a mechanic with me to the White House. He was introduced
to Roosevelt when he arrived. He didn't talk to the President, and
Roosevelt heard his name only once. He was a shy chap, and he
kept in the background. But before leaving us, the President looked
for the mechanic, shook his hand, called him by name, and thanked
him for coming to Washington. And there was nothing perfunctory
about his thanks. He meant what he said. I could feel that.

"A few days after returning to New York, I got an autographed
photograph of President Roosevelt and a little note of thanks again
expressing his appreciation for my assistance. How he found time to
do it is a mystery to me ."

Franklin D. Roosevelt knew that one of the simplest, most obvious
and most important ways of gaining good will was by remembering
names and making people feel important - yet how many of us do it?

Half the time we are introduced to a stranger, we chat a few minutes
and can't even remember his or her name by the time we say
goodbye.

One of the first lessons a politician learns is this: "To recall a voter's
name is statesmanship. To forget it is oblivion."

And the ability to remember names is almost as important in
business and social contacts as it is in politics.

Napoleon the Third, Emperor of France and nephew of the great
Napoleon, boasted that in spite of all his royal duties he could
remember the name of every person he met.

His technique? Simple. If he didn't hear the name distinctly, he said,
"So sorry. I didn't get the name clearly." Then, if it was an unusual
name, he would say, "How is it spelled?"

During the conversation, he took the trouble to repeat the name
several times, and tried to associate it in his mind with the person's
features, expression and general appearance.

If the person was someone of importance, Napoleon went to even
further pains. As soon as His Royal Highness was alone, he wrote the
name down on a piece of paper, looked at it, concentrated on it,
fixed it securely in his mind, and then tore up the paper. In this way,
he gained an eye impression of the name as well as an ear
impression.

All this takes time, but "Good manners," said Emerson, "are made up
of petty sacrifices."

The importance of remembering and using names is not just the
prerogative of kings and corporate executives. It works for all of us.
Ken Nottingham, an employee of General Motors in Indiana, usually
had lunch at the company cafeteria. He noticed that the woman who
worked behind the counter always had a scowl on her face. "She had
been making sandwiches for about two hours and I was just another
sandwich to her. I told her what I wanted. She weighed out the ham
on a little scale, then she gave me one leaf of lettuce, a few potato
chips and handed them to me.

"The next day I went through the same line. Same woman, same
scowl. The only difference was I noticed her name tag. I smiled and
said, 'Hello, Eunice,' and then told her what I wanted. Well, she
forgot the scale, piled on the ham, gave me three leaves of lettuce
and heaped on the potato chips until they fell off the plate."

We should be aware of the magic contained in a name and realize
that this single item is wholly and completely owned by the person
with whom we are dealing and nobody else. The name sets the
individual apart; it makes him or her unique among all others. The
information we are imparting or the request we are making takes on
a special importance when we approach the situation with the name
of the individual. From the waitress to the senior executive, the
name will work magic as we deal with others.

• Principle 3 - Remember that a person's name is to that person the
sweetest and most important sound in any language.

~~~~~~~

4 - An Easy Way To Become A Good Conversationalist

Some time ago, I attended a bridge party. I don't play bridge - and
there was a woman there who didn't play bridge either. She had
discovered that I had once been Lowell Thomas' manager before he
went on the radio and that I had traveled in Europe a great deal
while helping him prepare the illustrated travel talks he was then
delivering. So she said: "Oh, Mr. Carnegie, I do want you to tell me
about all the wonderful places you have visited and the sights you
have seen."

As we sat down on the sofa, she remarked that she and her husband
had recently returned from a trip to Africa. "Africa!" I exclaimed.
"How interesting! I've always wanted to see Africa, but I never got
there except for a twenty-four-hour stay once in Algiers. Tell me, did
you visit the big-game country? Yes? How fortunate. I envy you. Do
tell me about Africa."

That kept her talking for forty-five minutes. She never again asked
me where I had been or what I had seen. She didn't want to hear
me talk about my travels. All she wanted was an interested listener,
so she could expand her ego and tell about where she had been.

Was she unusual? No. Many people are like that.

For example, I met a distinguished botanist at a dinner party given
by a New York book publisher. I had never talked with a botanist
before, and I found him fascinating. I literally sat on the edge of my
chair and listened while he spoke of exotic plants and experiments in

developing new forms of plant life and indoor gardens (and even told
me astonishing facts about the humble potato). I had a small indoor
garden of my own - and he was good enough to tell me how to solve
some of my problems.

As I said, we were at a dinner party. There must have been a dozen
other guests, but I violated all the canons of courtesy, ignored
everyone else, and talked for hours to the botanist.

Midnight came, I said good night to everyone and departed. The
botanist then turned to our host and paid me several flattering
compliments. I was "most stimulating." I was this and I was that,
and he ended by saying I was a "most interesting conversationalist."

An interesting conversationalist? Why, I had said hardly anything at
all. I couldn't have said anything if I had wanted to without changing
the subject, for I didn't know any more about botany than I knew
about the anatomy of a penguin. But I had done this: I had listened
intently. I had listened because I was genuinely interested. And he
felt it. Naturally that pleased him. That kind of listening is one of the
highest compliments we can pay anyone. "Few human beings,"
wrote Jack Woodford in Strangers in Love, "few human beings are
proof against the implied flattery of rapt attention." I went even
further than giving him rapt attention. I was "hearty in my
approbation and lavish in my praise."

I told him that I had been immensely entertained and instructed -
and I had. I told him I wished I had his knoledge - and I did. I told
him that I should love to wander the fields with him - and I have. I
told him I must see him again - and I did.

And so I had him thinking of me as a good conversationalist when, in
reality, I had been merely a good listener and had encouraged him
to talk.

What is the secret, the mystery, of a successful business interview?
Well, according to former Harvard president Charles W. Eliot, "There
is no mystery about successful business intercourse. ... Exclusive
attention to the person who is speaking to you is very important.
Nothing else is so flattering as that."

Eliot himself was a past master of the art of listening, Henry James,
one of America's first great novelists, recalled: "Dr. Eliot's listening
was not mere silence, but a form of activity. Sitting very erect on the
end of his spine with hands joined in his lap, making no movement
except that he revolved his thumbs around each other faster or
slower, he faced his interlocutor and seemed to be hearing with his
eyes as well as his ears. He listened with his mind and attentively
considered what you had to say while you said it. ... At the end of an

interview the person who had talked to him felt that he had had his
say."

Self-evident, isn't it? You don't have to study for four years in
Harvard to discover that. Yet I know and you know department store
owners who will rent expensive space, buy their goods economically,
dress their windows appealingly, spend thousands of dollars in
advertising and then hire clerks who haven't the sense to be good
listeners - clerks who interrupt customers, contradict them, irritate
them, and all but drive them from the store.

A department store in Chicago almost lost a regular customer who
spent several thousand dollars each year in that store because a
sales clerk wouldn't listen. Mrs. Henrietta Douglas, who took our
course in Chicago, had purchased a coat at a special sale. After she
had brought it home she noticed that there was a tear in the lining.
She came back the next day and asked the sales clerk to exchange
it. The clerk refused even to listen to her complaint. "You bought this
at a special sale," she said. She pointed to a sign on the wall. "Read
that," she exclaimed. " 'All sales are final.' Once you bought it, you
have to keep it. Sew up the lining yourself."

"But this was damaged merchandise," Mrs. Douglas complained.

"Makes no difference," the clerk interrupted. "Final's final "

Mrs. Douglas was about to walk out indignantly, swearing never to
return to that store ever, when she was greeted by the department
manager, who knew her from her many years of patronage. Mrs.
Douglas told her what had happened.

The manager listened attentively to the whole story, examined the
coat and then said: "Special sales are 'final' so we can dispose of
merchandise at the end of the season. But this 'no return' policy
does not apply to damaged goods. We will certainly repair or replace
the lining, or if you prefer, give you your money back."

What a difference in treatment! If that manager had not come along
and listened to the Customer, a long-term patron of that store could
have been lost forever.

Listening is just as important in one's home life as in the world of
business. Millie Esposito of Croton-on-Hudson, New York, made it her
business to listen carefully when one of her children wanted to speak
with her. One evening she was sitting in the kitchen with her son,
Robert, and after a brief discussion of something that was on his
mind, Robert said: "Mom, I know that you love me very much."

Mrs. Esposito was touched and said: "Of course I love you very
much. Did you doubt it?"

Robert responded: "No, but I really know you love me because
whenever I want to talk to you about something you stop whatever
you are doing and listen to me."

The chronic kicker, even the most violent critic, will frequently soften
and be subdued in the presence of a patient, sympathetic listener - a
listener who will he silent while the irate fault-finder dilates like a
king cobra and spews the poison out of his system. To illustrate: The
New York Telephone Company discovered a few years ago that it
had to deal with one of the most vicious customers who ever cursed
a customer service representative. And he did curse. He raved. He
threatened to tear the phone out by its roots. He refused to pay
certain charges that he declared were false. He wrote letters to the
newspapers. He filed innumerable complaints with the Public Service
Commission, and he started several suits against the telephone
company.

At last, one of the company's most skillful "trouble-shooters" was
sent to interview this stormy petrel. This "troubleshooter" listened
and let the cantankerous customer enjoy himself pouring out his
tirade. The telephone representative listened and said "yes" and
sympathized with his grievance.

"He raved on and I listened for nearlv three hours," the
"troubleshooter" said as he related his experiences before one of the
author's classes. "Then I went back and listened some more. I
interviewed him four times, and before the fourth visit was over I
had become a charter member of an organization he was starting.
He called it the 'Telephone Subscribers' Protective Association.' I am
still a member of this organization, and, so far as I know, I'm the
only member in the world today besides Mr. ----.

"I listened and sympathized with him on every point that he made
during these interviews. He had never had a telephone
representative talk with him that way before, and he became almost
friendly. The point on which I went to see him was not even
mentioned on the first visit, nor was it mentioned on the second or
third, but upon the fourth interview, I closed the case completely, he
paid all his bills in full, and for the first time in the history of his
difficulties with the telephone company he voluntarily withdrew his
complaints from the Public Service Commission."

Doubtless Mr. ----- had considered himself a holy crusader,
defending the public rights against callous exploitation. But in reality,
what he had really wanted was a feeling of importance. He got this
feeling of importance at first by kicking and complaining. But as soon
as he got his feeling of importance from a representative of the
company, his imagined grievances vanished into thin air.

One morning years ago, an angry customer stormed into the office
of Julian F. Detmer, founder of the Detmer Woolen Company, which
later became the world's largest distributor of woolens to the
tailoring trade.

"This man owed us a small sum of money," Mr. Detmer explained to
me. "The customer denied it, but we knew he was wrong. So our
credit department had insisted that he pay. After getting a number of
letters from our credit department, he packed his grip, made a trip to
Chicago, and hurried into my office to inform me not only that he
was not going to pay that bill, but that he was never going to buy
another dollar's worth of goods from the Detmer Woolen Company.

"I listened patiently to all he had to say. I was tempted to interrupt,
but I realized that would be bad policy, So I let him talk himself out.
When he finally simmered down and got in a receptive mood, I said
quietly: 'I want to thank vou for coming to Chicago to tell me about
this. You have done me a great favor, for if our credit department
has annoyed you, it may annoy other good customers, and that
would be just too bad. Believe me, I am far more eager to hear this
than you are to tell it.'

"That was the last thing in the world he expected me to say. I think
he was a trifle disappointed, because he had come to Chicago to tell
me a thing or two, but here I was thanking him instead of scrapping
with him. I assured him we would wipe the charge off the books and
forget it, because he was a very careful man with only one account
to look after, while our clerks had to look after thousands. Therefore,
he was less likely to be wrong than we were.

"I told him that I understood exactly how he felt and that, if I were
in his shoes, I should undoubtedly feel precisely as he did. Since he
wasn't going to buy from us anymore, I recommended some other
woolen houses.

"In the past, we had usually lunched together when he came to
Chicago, so I invited him to have lunch with me this day. He
accepted reluctantly, but when we came back to the office he placed
a larger order than ever before. He returned home in a softened
mood and, wanting to be just as fair with us as we had been with
him, looked over his bills, found one that had been mislaid, and sent
us a check with his apologies.

"Later, when his wife presented him with a baby boy, he gave his
son the middle name of Detmer, and he remained a friend and
customer of the house until his death twenty-two years afterwards."

Years ago, a poor Dutch immigrant boy washed the windows of a
bakery shop after school to help support his family. His people were
so poor that in addition he used to go out in the street with a basket

every day and collect stray bits of coal that had fallen in the gutter
where the coal wagons had delivered fuel. That boy, Edward Bok,
never got more than six years of schooling in his life; yet eventually
he made himself one of the most successful magazine editors in the
history of American journalism. How did he do it? That is a long
story, but how he got his start can be told briefly. He got his start by
using the principles advocated in this chapter.

He left school when he was thirteen and became an office boy for
Western Union, but he didn't for one moment give up the idea of an
education. Instead, he started to educate himself, He saved his
carfares and went without lunch until he had enough money to buy
an encyclopedia of American biography - and then he did an
unheard-of thing. He read the lives of famous people and wrote
them asking for additional information about their childhoods. He
was a good listener. He asked famous people to tell him more about
themselves. He wrote General James A. Garfield, who was then
running for President, and asked if it was true that he was once a
tow boy on a canal; and Garfield replied. He wrote General Grant
asking about a certain battle, and Grant drew a map for him and
invited this fourteen-year old boy to dinner and spent the evening
talking to him.

Soon our Western Union messenger boy was corresponding with
many of the most famous people in the nation: Ralph Waldo
Emerson, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Longfellow, Mrs. Abraham Lincoln,
Louisa May Alcott, General Sherman and Jefferson Davis. Not only
did he correspond with these distinguished people, but as soon as he
got a vacation, he visited many of them as a welcome guest in their
homes. This experience imbued him with a confidence that was
invaluable. These men and women fired him with a vision and
ambition that shaped his life. And all this, let me repeat, was made
possible solely by the application of the principles we are discussing
here.

Isaac F. Marcosson, a journalist who interviewed hundreds of
celebrities, declared that many people fail to make a favorable
impression because they don't listen attentively. "They have been so
much concerned with what they are going to say next that they do
not keep their ears open. ... Very important people have told me that
they prefer good listeners to good talkers, but the ability to listen
seems rarer than almost any other good trait ."

And not only important personages crave a good listener, but
ordinary folk do too. As the Reader's Digest once said: "Many
persons call a doctor when all they want is an audience,"

During the darkest hours of the Civil War, Lincoln wrote to an old
friend in Springfield, Illinois, asking him to come to Washington.
Lincoln said he had some problems he wanted to discuss with him.

The old neighbor called at the White House, and Lincoln talked to
him for hours about the advisability of issuing a proclamation freeing
the slaves. Lincoln went over all the arguments for and against such
a move, and then read letters and newspaper articles, some
denouncing him for not freeing the slaves and others denouncing
him for fear he was going to free them. After talking for hours,
Lincoln shook hands with his old neighbor, said good night, and sent
him back to Illinois without even asking for his opinion. Lincoln had
done all the talking himself. That seemed to clarify his mind. "He
seemed to feel easier after that talk," the old friend said. Lincoln
hadn't wanted advice, He had wanted merely a friendly, sympathetic
listener to whom he could unburden himself. That's what we all want
when we are in trouble. That is frequently all the irritated customer
wants, and the dissatisfied employee or the hurt friend.

One of the great listeners of modern times was Sigmund Freud. A
man who met Freud described his manner of listening: "It struck me
so forcibly that I shall never forget him. He had qualities which I had
never seen in any other man. Never had I seen such concentrated
attention. There was none of that piercing 'soul penetrating gaze'
business. His eyes were mild and genial. His voice was low and kind.
His gestures were few. But the attention he gave me, his
appreciation of what I said, even when I said it badly, was
extraordinary, You've no idea what it meant to be listened to like
that."

If you want to know how to make people shun you and laugh at you
behind your back and even despise you, here is the recipe: Never
listen to anyone for long. Talk incessantly about yourself. If you have
an idea while the other person is talking, don't wait for him or her to
finish: bust right in and interrupt in the middle of a sentence.

Do you know people like that? I do, unfortunately; and the
astonishing part of it is that some of them are prominent.

Bores, that is all they are - bores intoxicated with their own egos,
drunk with a sense of their own importance.

People who talk only of themselves think only of themselves. And
"those people who think only of themselves," Dr. Nicholas Murray
Butler, longtime president of Columbia University, said, "are
hopelessly uneducated. They are not educated," said Dr. Butler, "no
matter how instructed they may be."

So if you aspire to be a good conversationalist, be an attentive
listener. To be interesting, be interested. Ask questions that other
persons will enjoy answering. Encourage them to talk about
themselves and their accomplishments.

Remember that the people you are talking to are a hundred times
more interested in themselves and their wants and problems than
they are in you and your problems. A person's toothache means
more to that person than a famine in China which kills a million
people. A boil on one's neck interests one more than forty
earthquakes in Africa. Think of that the next time you start a
conversation.

• Principle 4 - Be a good listener. Encourage others to talk about
themselves.

~~~~~~~

5 - How To Interest People

Everyone who was ever a guest of Theodore Roosevelt was
astonished at the range and diversity of his knowledge. Whether his
visitor was a cowboy or a Rough Rider, a New York politician or a
diplomat, Roosevelt knew what to say. And how was it done? The
answer was simple. Whenever Roosevelt expected a visitor, he sat
up late the night before, reading up on the subject in which he knew
his guest was particularly interested.

For Roosevelt knew, as all leaders know, that the royal road to a
person's heart is to talk about the things he or she treasures most.

The genial William Lyon Phelps, essayist and professor of literature
at Yale, learned this lesson early in life.

"When I was eight years old and was spending a weekend visiting
my Aunt Libby Linsley at her home in Stratford on the Housatonic,"
he wrote in his essay on Human Nature, "a middle-aged man called
one evening, and after a polite skirmish with my aunt, he devoted his
attention to me. At that time, I happened to be excited about boats,
and the visitor discussed the subject in a way that seemed to me
particularly interesting. After he left, I spoke of him with enthusiasm.
What a man! My aunt informed me he was a New York lawyer, that
he cared nothing whatever about boats - that he took not the
slightest interest in the subject. 'But why then did he talk all the time
about boats?'

" 'Because he is a gentleman. He saw you were interested in boats,
and he talked about the things he knew would interest and please
you. He made himself agreeable.' "

And William Lyon Phelps added: "I never forgot my aunt's remark."

As I write this chapter, I have before me a letter from Edward L.
Chalif, who was active in Boy Scout work.

"One day I found I needed a favor," wrote Mr. Chalif. "A big Scout
jamboree was coming off in Europe, and I wanted the president of
one of the largest corporations in America to pay the expenses of
one of my boys for the trip.

"Fortunately, just before I went to see this man, I heard that he had
drawn a check for a million dollars, and that after it was canceled, he
had had it framed.

"So the first thing I did when I entered his office was to ask to see
the check. A check for a million dollars! I told him I never knew that
anybody had ever written such a check, and that I wanted to tell my
boys that I had actually seen a check for a million dollars. He gladly
showed it to me; I admired it and asked him to tell me all about how
it happened to be drawn."

You notice, don't you, that Mr. Chalif didn't begin by talking about
the Boy Scouts, or the jamboree in Europe, or what it was he
wanted? He talked in terms of what interested the other man. Here's
the result:

"Presently, the man I was interviewing said: 'Oh, by the way, what
was it you wanted to see me about?' So I told him.

"To my vast surprise," Mr. Chalif continues, "he not only granted
immediately what I asked for, but much more. I had asked him to
send only one boy to Europe, but he sent five boys and myself, gave
me a letter of credit for a thousand dollars and told us to stay in
Europe for seven weeks. He also gave me letters of introduction to
his branch presidents, putting them at our service, and he himself
met us in Paris and showed us the town.

Since then, he has given jobs to some of the boys whose parents
were in want, and he is still active in our group.

"Yet I know if I hadn't found out what he was interested in, and got
him warmed up first, I wouldn't have found him one-tenth as easy to
approach."

Is this a valuable technique to use in business? Is it? Let's see, Take
Henry G. Duvernoy of Duvemoy and Sons, a wholesale baking firm in
New York.

Mr. Duvernoy had been trying to sell bread to a certain New York
hotel. He had called on the manager every week for four years. He
went to the same social affairs the manager attended. He even took
rooms in the hotel and lived there in order to get the business. But
he failed.

"Then," said Mr. Duvernoy, "after studying human relations, I
resolved to change my tactics. I decided to find out what interested
this man - what caught his enthusiasm.

"I discovered he belonged to a society of hotel executives called the
Hotel Greeters of America. He not only belonged, but his bubbling
enthusiasm had made him president of the organization, and
president of the International Greeters. No matter where its
conventions were held, he would be there.

"So when I saw him the next day, I began talking about the
Greeters. What a response I got. What a response! He talked to me
for half an hour about the Greeters, his tones vibrant with
enthusiasm. I could plainly see that this society was not only his
hobby, it was the passion of his life. Before I left his office, he had
'sold' me a membership in his organization.

"In the meantime, I had said nothing about bread. But a few days
later, the steward of his hotel phoned me to come over with samples
and prices.

" 'I don't know what you did to the old boy,' the steward greeted me,
'but he sure is sold on you!'

"Think of it! I had been drumming at that man for four years - trying
to get his business - and I'd still be drumming at him if I hadn't
finally taken the trouble to find out what he was interested in, and
what he enjoyed talking about."

Edward E. Harriman of Hagerstown, Maryland, chose to live in the
beautiful Cumberland Valley of Maryland after he completed his
military service. Unfortunately, at that time there were few jobs
available in the area. A little research uncovered the fact that a
number of companies in the area were either owned or controlled by
an unusual business maverick, R. J. Funkhouser, whose rise from
poverty to riches intrigued Mr. Harriman. However, he was known for
being inaccessible to job seekers. Mr. Harriman wrote:

"I interviewed a number of people and found that his major interest
was anchored in his drive for power and money. Since he protected
himself from people like me by use of a dedicated and stern
secretary, I studied her interests and goals and only then I paid an
unannounced visit at her office. She had been Mr. Funkhouser's
orbiting satellite for about fifteen years. When I told her I had a
proposition for him which might translate itself into financial and
political success for him, she became enthused. I also conversed
with her about her constructive participation in his success. After this
conversation she arranged for me to meet Mr. Funkhouser.

"I entered his huge and impressive office determined not to ask
directly for a job. He was seated behind a large carved desk and
thundered at me, 'How about it, young man?' I said, 'Mr.
Funkhouser, I believe I can make money for you.' He immediately
rose and invited me to sit in one of the large upholstered chairs. I
enumerated my ideas and the qualifications I had to realize these
ideas, as well as how they would contribute to his personal success
and that of his businesses.

" 'R. J.,' as he became known to me, hired me at once and for over
twenty years I have grown in his enterprises and we both have
prospered."

Talking in terms of the other person's interests pays off for both
parties. Howard Z. Herzig, a leader in the field of employee
communications, has always followed this principle. When asked
what reward he got from it, Mr. Herzig responded that he not only
received a different reward from each person but that in general the
reward had been an enlargement of his life each time he spoke to
someone.

• Principle 5 - Talk in terms of the other person's interests.

~~~~~~~

6 - How To Make People Like You Instantly

I was waiting in line to register a letter in the post office at Thirty-
third Street and Eighth Avenue in New York. I noticed that the clerk
appeared to be bored with the job -weighing envelopes, handing out
stamps, making change, issuing receipts - the same monotonous
grind year after year. So I said to myself: "I am going to try to make
that clerk like me. Obviously, to make him like me, I must say
something nice, not about myself, but about him. So I asked myself,
'What is there about him that I can honestly admire?' " That is
sometimes a hard question to answer, especially with strangers; but,
in this case, it happened to be easy. I instantly saw something I
admired no end.

So while he was weighing my envelope, I remarked with enthusiasm:
"I certainly wish I had your head of hair."

He looked up, half-startled, his face beaming with smiles. "Well, it
isn't as good as it used to be," he said modestly. I assured him that
although it might have lost some of its pristine glory, nevertheless it
was still magnificent. He was immensely pleased. We carried on a
pleasant little conversation and the last thing he said to me was:
"Many people have admired my hair."

I'll bet that person went out to lunch that day walking on air. I'll bet
he went home that night and told his wife about it. I'll bet he looked
in the mirror and said: "It is a beautiful head of hair."

I told this story once in public and a man asked me afterwards:
"'What did you want to get out of him?"

What was I trying to get out of him!!! What was I trying to get out of
him!!!

If we are so contemptibly selfish that we can't radiate a little
happiness and pass on a bit of honest appreciation without trying to
get something out of the other person in return - if our souls are no
bigger than sour crab apples, we shall meet with the failure we so
richly deserve. Oh yes, I did want something out of that chap. I
wanted something priceless. And I got it. I got the feeling that I had
done something for him without his being able to do anything
whatever in return for me. That is a feeling that flows and sings in
your memory lung after the incident is past.

There is one all-important law of human conduct. If we obey that
law, we shall almost never get into trouble. In fact, that law, if
obeyed, will bring us countless friends and constant happiness. But
the very instant we break the law, we shall get into endless trouble.
The law is this: Always make the other person feel important. John
Dewey, as we have already noted, said that the desire to be
important is the deepest urge in human nature; and William James
said: "The deepest principle in human nature is the craving to be
appreciated." As I have already pointed out, it is this urge that
differentiates us from the animals. It is this urge that has been
responsible for civilization itself.

Philosophers have been speculating on the rules of human
relationships for thousands of years, and out of all that speculation,
there has evolved only one important precept. It is not new. It is as
old as history. Zoroaster taught it to his followers in Persia twenty-
five hundred years ago. Confucius preached it in China twenty-four
centuries ago. Lao-tse, the founder of Taoism, taught it to his
disciples in the Valley of the Han. Buddha preached it on the bank of
the Holy Ganges five hundred years before Christ. The sacred books
of Hinduism taught it a thousand years before that. Jesus taught it
among the stony hills of Judea nineteen centuries ago. Jesus
summed it up in one thought -probably the most important rule in
the world: "Do unto others as you would have others do unto you."

You want the approval of those with whom you come in contact. You
want recognition of your true worth. You want a feeling that you are
important in your little world. You don't want to listen to cheap,
insincere flattery, but you do crave sincere appreciation. You want

your friends and associates to be, as Charles Schwab put it, "hearty
in their approbation and lavish in their praise." All of us want that.

So let's obey the Golden Rule, and give unto others what we would
have others give unto us, How? When? Where? The answer is: All
the time, everywhere.

David G. Smith of Eau Claire, Wisconsin, told one of our classes how
he handled a delicate situation when he was asked to take charge of
the refreshment booth at a charity concert,

"The night of the concert I arrived at the park and found two elderly
ladies in a very bad humor standing next to the refreshment stand.
Apparently each thought that she was in charge of this project. As I
stood there pondering what to do, me of the members of the
sponsoring committee appeared and handed me a cash box and
thanked me for taking over the project. She introduced Rose and
Jane as my helpers and then ran off.

"A great silence ensued. Realizing that the cash box was a symbol of
authority (of sorts), I gave the box to Rose and explained that I
might not be able to keep the money straight and that if she took
care of it I would feel better. I then suggested to Jane that she show
two teenagers who had been assigned to refreshments how to
operate the soda machine, and I asked her to be responsible for that
part of the project.

"The evening was very enjoyable with Rose happily counting the
money, Jane supervising the teenagers, and me enjoying the
concert."

You don't have to wait until you are ambassador to France or
chairman of the Clambake Committee of your lodge before you use
this philosophy of appreciation. You can work magic with it almost
every day.

If, for example, the waitress brings us mashed potatoes when we
have ordered French fried, let's say: "I'm sorry to trouble you, but I
prefer French fried." She'll probably reply, "No trouble at all" and will
be glad to change the potatoes, because we have shown respect for
her.

Little phrases such as "I'm sorry to trouble you," "Would you be so
kind as to ----? " "Won't you please?" " Would you mind?" "Thank
you" - little courtesies like these oil the cogs of the monotonous
grind of everyday life- and, incidentally, they are the hallmark of
good breeding.

Let's take another illustration. Hall Caine's novels-The Christian, The
Deemster, The Manxman, among them - were all best-sellers in the

early part of this century. Millions of people read his novels,
countless millions. He was the son of a blacksmith. He never had
more than eight years' schooling in his life; yet when he died he was
the richest literary man of his time.

The story goes like this: Hall Caine loved sonnets and ballads; so he
devoured all of Dante Gabriel Rossetti's poetry. He even wrote a
lecture chanting the praises of Rossetti's artistic achievement-and
sent a copy to Rossetti himself. Rossetti was delighted. "Any young
man who has such an exalted opinion of my ability," Rossetti
probably said to himself, "must be brilliant," So Rossetti invited this
blacksmith's son to come to London and act as his secretary. That
was the turning point in Hall Caine's life; for, in his new position, he
met the literary artists of the day. Profiting by their advice and
inspired by their encouragement, he launched upon a career that
emblazoned his name across the sky.

His home, Greeba Castle, on the Isle of Man, became a Mecca for
tourists from the far corners of the world, and he left a multimillion
dollar estate. Yet - who knows - he might have died poor and
unknown had he not written an essay expressing his admiration for a
famous man.

Such is the power, the stupendous power, of sincere, heartfelt
appreciation.

Rossetti considered himself important. That is not strange, Almost
everyone considers himself important, very important.

The life of many a person could probably be changed if only
someone would make him feel important. Ronald J. Rowland, who is
one of the instructors of our course in California, is also a teacher of
arts and crafts. He wrote to us about a student named Chris in his
beginning crafts class:

Chris was a very quiet, shy boy lacking in self-confidence, the kind of
student that often does not receive the attention he deserves. I also
teach an advanced class that had grown to be somewhat of a status
symbol and a privilege for a student to have earned the right to be in
it. On Wednesday, Chris was diligently working at his desk. I really
felt there was a hidden fire deep inside him. I asked Chris if he
would like to be in the advanced class. How I wish I could express
the look in Chris's face, the emotions in that shy fourteen-year-old
boy, trying to hold back his tears.

"Who me, Mr. Rowland? Am I good enough?"

"Yes, Chris, you are good enough."

I had to leave at that point because tears were coming to my eyes.
As Chris walked out of class that day, seemingly two inches taller, he
looked at me with bright blue eyes and said in a positive voice,
"Thank you, Mr. Rowland."

Chris taught me a lesson I will never forget-our deep desire to feel
important. To help me never forget this rule, I made a sign which
reads "YOU ARE IMPORTANT." This sign hangs in the front of the
classroom for all to see and to remind me that each student I face is
equally important.

The unvarnished truth is that almost all the people you meet feel
themselves superior to you in some way, and a sure way to their
hearts is to let them realize in some subtle way that you recognize
their importance, and recognize it sincerely.

Remember what Emerson said: "Every man I meet is my superior in
some way. In that, I learn of him."

And the pathetic part of it is that frequently those who have the least
justification for a feeling of achievement bolster up their egos by a
show of tumult and conceit which is truly nauseating. As
Shakespeare put it: "... man, proud man,/Drest in a little brief
authority,/ ... Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven/As make
the angels weep."

I am going to tell you how business people in my own courses have
applied these principles with remarkable results. Let's take the case
of a Connecticut attorney (because of his relatives he prefers not to
have his name mentioned).

Shortly after joining the course, Mr. R----- drove to Long Island with
his wife to visit some of her relatives. She left him to chat with an old
aunt of hers and ther rushed off by herself to visit some of the
younger relatives. Since he soon had to give a speech professionally
on how he applied the principles of appreciation, he thought he
would gain some worthwhile experience talking with the-elderly lady.
So he looked around the house to see what he could honestly
admire.

"This house was built about 1890, wasn't it?" he inquired.

"Yes," she replied, "that is precisely the year it was built."

"It reminds me of the house I was born in," he said. "It's beautiful.
Well built. Roomy. You know, they don't build houses like this
anymore."

"You're right," the old lady agreed. "The young folks nowadays don't
care for beautiful homes. All they want is a small apartment, and
then they go off gadding about in their automobiles.

"This is a dream house," she said in a voice vibrating with tender
memories. "This house was built with love. My husband and I
dreamed about it for years before we built it. We didn't have an
architect. We planned it all ourselves."

She showed Mr. R----- about the house, and he expressed his hearty
admiration for the beautiful treasures she had picked up in her
travels and cherished over a lifetime - paisley shawls, an old English
tea set, Wedgwood china, French beds and chairs, Italian paintings,
and silk draperies that had once hung in a French chateau.

After showing Mr. R----- through the house, she took him out to the
garage. There, jacked up on blocks, was a Packard car - in mint
condition.

"My husband bought that car for me shortly before he passed on,"
she said softly. "I have never ridden in it since his death. ... You
appreciate nice things, and I'm going to give this car to you."

"Why, aunty," he said, "you overwhelm me. I appreciate your
generosity, of course; but I couldn't possibly accept it. I'm not even
a relative of yours. I have a new car, and you have many relatives
that would like to have that Packard."

"Relatives!" she exclaimed. "Yes, I have relatives who are just
waiting till I die so they can get that car. But they are not going to
get it."

"If you don't want to give it to them, you can very easily sell it to a
secondhand dealer," he told her.

"Sell it!" she cried. "Do you think I would sell this car? Do you think I
could stand to see strangers riding up and down the street in that
car - that car that my husband bought for me? I wouldn't dream of
selling it. I'm going to give it to you. You appreciate beautiful
things."

He tried to get out of accepting the car, but he couldn't without
hurting her feelings.

This lady, left all alone in a big house with her paisley shawls, her
French antiques, and her memories, was starving for a little
recognition, She had once been young and beautiful and sought
after She had once built a house warm with love and had collected
things from all over Europe to make it beautiful. Now, in the isolated
loneliness of old age, she craved a little human warmth, a little

genuine appreciation - and no one gave it to her. And when she
found it, like a spring in the desert, her gratitude couldn't adequately
express itself with anything less than the gift of her cherished
Packard.

Let's take another case: Donald M. McMahon, who was
superintendent of Lewis and Valentine, nurserymen and landscape
architects in Rye, New York, related this incident:

"Shortly after I attended the talk on 'How to Win Friends and
Influence People,' I was landscaping the estate of a famous attorney.
The owner came out to give me a few instructions about where he
wished to plant a mass of rhododendrons and azaleas.

"I said, 'Judge, you have a lovely hobby. I've been admiring your
beautiful dogs. I understand you win a lot of blue ribbons every year
at the show in Madison Square Garden.'

"The effect of this little expression of appreciation was striking.

" 'Yes,' the judge replied, 'I do have a lot of fun with my dogs. Would
you like to see my kennel?'

"He spent almost an hour showing me his dogs and the prizes they
had won. He even brought out their pedigrees and explained about
the bloodlines responsible for such beauty and intelligence.

"Finally, turning to me, he asked: 'Do you have any small children?'

" 'Yes, I do,' I replied, 'I have a son.'

" 'Well, wouldn't he like a puppy?' the judge inquired.

" 'Oh, yes, he'd be tickled pink.'

" 'All right, I'm going to give him one,' the . judge announced.

He started to tell me how to feed the puppy. Then he paused. 'You'll
forget it if I tell you. I'll write it out.' So the judge went in the house,
typed out the pedigree and feeding instructions, and gave me a
puppy worth several hundred dollars and one hour and fifteen
minutes of his valuable time largely because I had expressed my
honest admiration for his hobby and achievements."

George Eastman, of Kodak fame, invented the transparent film that
made motion pictures possible, amassed a fortune of a hundred
million dollars, and made himself one of the most famous
businessmen on earth. Yet in spite of all these tremendous
accomplishments, he craved little recognitions even as you and I.

To illustrate: When Eastman was building the Eastman School of
Music and also Kilbourn Hall in Rochester, James Adamson, then
president of the Superior Seating Company of New York, wanted to
get the order to supply the theater chairs for these buildings.
Phoning the architect, Mr. Adamson made an appointment to see Mr.
Eastman in Rochester.

When Adamson arrived, the architect said: "I know you want to get
this order, but I can tell you right now that you won't stand a ghost
of a show if you take more than five minutes of George Eastman's
time. He is a strict disciplinarian. He is very busy. So tell your story
quickly and get out."

Adamson was prepared to do just that.

When he was ushered into the room he saw Mr. Eastman bending
over a pile of papers at his desk. Presently, Mr. Eastman looked up,
removed his glasses, and walked toward the architect and Mr.
Adamson, saying: "Good morning, gentlemen, what can I do for
you?"

The architect introduced them, and then Mr. Adamson said: "While
we've been waiting for you, Mr. Eastman, I've been admiring your
office. I wouldn't mind working in a room like this myself. I'm in the
interior-woodworking business, and I never saw a more beautiful
office in all my life."

George Eastman replied: "You remind me of something I had almost
forgotten. It is beautiful, isn't it? I enjoyed it a great deal when it
was first built. But I come down here now with a lot of other things
on my mind and sometimes don't even see the room for weeks at a
time ."

Adamson walked over and rubbed his hand across a panel. "This is
English oak, isn't it? A little different texture from Italian oak."

"Yes," Eastman replied. "Imported English oak. It was selected for
me by a friend who specializes in fine woods ."

Then Eastman showed him about the room, commenting on the
proportions, the coloring, the hand carving and other effects he had
helped to plan and execute.

While drifting about the room, admiring the wood-work, they paused
before a window, and George Eastman, in his modest, soft-spoken
way, pointed out some of the institutions through which he was
trying to help humanity: the University of Rochester, the General
Hospital, the Homeopathic Hospital, the Friendly Home, the
Children's Hospital. Mr. Adamson congratulated him warmly on the
idealistic way he was using his wealth to alleviate the sufferings of

humanity. Presently, George Eastman unlocked a glass case and
pulled out the first camera he had ever owned - an invention he had
bought from an Englishman.

Adamson questioned him at length about his early struggles to get
started in business, and Mr. Eastman spoke with real feeling about
the poverty of his childhood, telling how his widowed mother had
kept a boardinghouse while he clerked in an insurance office. The
terror of poverty haunted him day and night, and he resolved to
make enough money so that his mother wouldn't have to work, Mr.
Adamson drew him out with further questions and listened,
absorbed, while he related the story of his experiments with dry
photographic plates. He told how he had worked in an office all day,
and sometimes experimented all night, taking only brief naps while
the chemicals were working, sometimes working and sleeping in his
clothes for seventy-two hours at a stretch.

James Adamson had been ushered into Eastman's office at ten-
fifteen and had been warned that he must not take more than five
minutes; but an hour had passed, then two hours passed. And they
were still talking. Finally, George Eastman turned to Adamson and
said, "The last time I was in Japan I bought some chairs, brought
them home, and put them in my sun porch. But the sun peeled the
paint, so I went downtown the other day and bought some paint and
painted the chairs myself. Would you like to see what sort of a job I
can do painting chairs? All right. Come up to my home and have
lunch with me and I'll show you."

After lunch, Mr. Eastman showed Adamson the chairs he had
brought from Japan. They weren't worth more than a few dollars,
but George Eastman, now a multimillionaire, was proud of them
because he himself had painted them.

The order for the seats amounted to $90,000. Who do you suppose
got the order - James Adamson or one of his competitors?

From the time of this story until Mr. Eastman's death, he and James
Adamson were close friends.

Claude Marais, a restaurant owner in Rouen, France, used this
principle and saved his restaurant the loss of a key employee. This
woman had been in his employ for five years and was a vital link
between M. Marais and his staff of twenty-one people. He was
shocked to receive a registered letter from her advising him of her
resignation.

M. Marais reported: "I was very surprised and, even more,
disappointed, because I was under the impression that I had been
fair to her and receptive to her needs. Inasmuch as she was a friend
as well as an employee, I probably had taken her too much for

granted and maybe was even more demanding of her than of other
employees.

"I could not, of course, accept this resignation without some
explanation. I took her aside and said, 'Paulette, you must
understand that I cannot accept your resignation You mean a great
deal to me and to this company, and you are as important to the
success of this restaurant as I am.' I repeated this in front of the
entire staff, and I invited her to my home and reiterated my
confidence in her with my family present.

"Paulette withdrew her resignation, and today I can rely on her as
never before. I frequently reinforce this by expressing my
appreciation for what she does and showing her how important she
is to me and to the restaurant."

"Talk to people about themselves," said Disraeli, one of the
shrewdest men who ever ruled the British Empire. "Talk to people
about themselves and they will listen for hours ."

• Principle 6 - Make the other person feel important-and do it
sincerely.

~~~~

In a Nutshell - Six Ways To Make People Like You

• Principle 1 - Become genuinely interested in other people.
• Principle 2 - Smile.
• Principle 3 - Remember that a person's name is to that person the
sweetest and most important sound in any language.
• Principle 4 - Be a good listener. Encourage others to talk about
themselves.
• Principle 5 - Talk in terms of the other person's interests.
• Principle 6 - Make the other person feel important-and do it
sincerely.

---------------------------------------

Part Three - How To Win People To Your Way Of Thinking

1 You Can't Win An Argument

Shortly after the close of World War I, I learned an invaluable lesson
one night in London. I was manager at the time for Sir Ross Smith.
During the war, Sir Ross had been the Australian ace out in
Palestine; and shortly after peace was declared, he astonished the
world by flying halfway around it in thirty days. No such feat had
ever been attempted before. It created a tremendous sensation. The
Australian government awarded him fifty thousand dollars; the King

of England knighted him; and, for a while, he was the most talked-
about man under the Union Jack. I was attending a banquet one
night given in Sir Ross's honor; and during the dinner, the man
sitting next to me told a humorous story which hinged on the
quotation "There's a divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them
how we will."

The raconteur mentioned that the quotation was from the Bible. He
was wrong. I knew that, I knew it positively. There couldn't be the
slightest doubt about it. And so, to get a feeling of importance and
display my superiority, I appointed myself as an unsolicited and
unwelcome committee of one to correct him. He stuck to his guns.
What? From Shakespeare? Impossible! Absurd! That quotation was
from the Bible. And he knew it.

The storyteller was sitting on my right; and Frank Gammond, an old
friend of mine, was seated at my left. Mr. Gammond had devoted
years to the study of Shakespeare, So the storyteller and I agreed to
submit the question to Mr. Gammond. Mr. Gammond listened, kicked
me under the table, and then said: "Dale, you are wrong. The
gentleman is right. It is from the Bible."

On our way home that night, I said to Mr. Gammond: "Frank, you
knew that quotation was from Shakespeare,"

"Yes, of course," he replied, "Hamlet, Act Five, Scene Two. But we
were guests at a festive occasion, my dear Dale. Why prove to a
man he is wrong? Is that going to make him like you? Why not let
him save his face? He didn't ask for your opinion. He didn't want it.
Why argue with him? Always avoid the acute angle." The man who
said that taught me a lesson I'll never forget. I not only had made
the storyteller uncomfortable, but had put my friend in an
embarrassing situation. How much better it would have been had I
not become argumentative.

It was a sorely needed lesson because I had been an inveterate
arguer. During my youth, I had argued with my brother about
everything under the Milky Way. When I went to college, I studied
logic and argumentation and went in for debating contests. Talk
about being from Missouri, I was born there. I had to be shown.
Later, I taught debating and argumentation in New York; and once, I
am ashamed to admit, I planned to write a book on the subject.
Since then, I have listened to, engaged in, and watched the effect of
thousands of arguments. As a result of all this, I have come to the
conclusion that there is only one way under high heaven to get the
best of an argument - and that is to avoid it .

Avoid it as you would avoid rattlesnakes and earthquakes.

Nine times out of ten, an argument ends with each of the
contestants more firmly convinced than ever that he is absolutely
right.

You can't win an argument. You can't because if you lose it, you lose
it; and if you win it, you lose it. Why? Well, suppose you triumph
over the other man and shoot his argument full of holes and prove
that he is non compos mentis. Then what? You will feel fine. But
what about him? You have made him feel inferior. You have hurt his
pride. He will resent your triumph. And -

A man convinced against his will Is of the same opinion still.

Years ago Patrick J. O'Haire joined one of my classes. He had had
little education, and how he loved a scrap! He had once been a
chauffeur, and he came to me because he had been trying, without
much success, to sell trucks. A little questioning brought out the fact
that he was continually scrapping with and antagonizing the very
people he was trying to do business with, If a prospect said anything
derogatory about the trucks he was selling, Pat saw red and was
right at the customer's throat. Pat won a lot of arguments in those
days. As he said to me afterward, "I often walked out of an office
saving: 'I told that bird something.' Sure I had told him something,
but I hadn't sold him anything."

Mv first problem was not to teach Patrick J. O'Haire to talk. My
immediate task was to train him to refrain from talking and to avoid
verbal fights.

Mr. O'Haire became one of the star salesmen for the White Motor
Company in New York. How did he do it? Here is his story in his own
words: "If I walk into a buyer's office now and he says: 'What? A
White truck?

They're no good! I wouldn't take one if you gave it to me. I'm going
to buy the Whose-It truck,' I say, 'The Whose-It is a good truck. If
you buy the Whose-It, you'll never make a mistake. The Whose-Its
are made by a fine company and sold by good people.'

"He is speechless then. There is no room for an argument. If he says
the Whose-It is best and I say sure it is, he has to stop. He can't
keep on all afternoon saying, 'It's the best' when I'm agreeing with
him. We then get off the subject of Whose-It and I begin to talk
about the good points of the White truck.

"There was a time when a remark like his first one would have made
me see scarlet and red and orange. I would start arguing against the
Whose-It; and the more I argued against it, the more my prospect

argued in favor of it; and the more he argued, the more he sold
himself on my competitor's product.

"As I look back now I wonder how I was ever able to sell anything. I
lost years of my life in scrapping and arguing. I keep my mouth shut
now. It pays."

As wise old Ben Franklin used to say:

If you argue and rankle and contradict, you may achieve a victory
sometimes; but it will be an empty victory because you will never get
your opponent's good will.

So figure it out for yourself. Which would you rather have, an
academic, theatrical victory or a person's good will? You can seldom
have both.

The Boston Transcript once printed this bit of significant doggerel:

Here lies the body of William Jay, . Who died maintaining his right of
way-He was right, dead right, as he sped along, But he's just as
dead as if he were wrong.

You may be right, dead right, as you speed along in your argument;
but as far as changing another's mind is concerned, you will probably
be just as futile as if you were wrong.

Frederick S. Parsons, an income tax consultant, had been disputing
and wrangling for an hour with a gover-ment tax inspector. An item
of nine thousand dollars was at stake. Mr. Parsons claimed that this
nine thousand dollars was in reality a bad debt, that it would never
be collected, that it ought not to be taxed. "Bad debt, my eye !"
retorted the inspector. "It must be taxed."

"This inspector was cold, arrogant and stubborn," Mr. Parsons said
as he told the story to the class. "Reason was wasted and so were
facts. . . The longer we argued, the more stubborn he became. So I
decided to avoid argument, change the subject, and give him
appreciation.

"I said, 'I suppose this is a very petty matter in comparison with the
really important and difficult decisions you're required to make. I've
made a study of taxation myself. But I've had to get my knowledge
from books. You are getting yours from the firing line of experience.
I sometime wish I had a job like yours. It would teach me a lot.' I
meant every word I said.

"Well." The inspector straightened up in his chair, leaned back, and
talked for a long time about his work, telling me of the clever frauds
he had uncovered. His tone gradually became friendly, and presently

he was telling me about his children. As he left, he advised me that
he would consider my problem further and give me his decision in a
few days.

"He called at my office three days later and informed me that he had
decided to leave the tax return exactly as it was filed."

This tax inspector was demonstrating one of the most common of
human frailties. He wanted a feeling of importance; and as long as
Mr. Parsons argued with him, he got his feeling of importance by
loudly asserting his authority. But as soon as his importance was
admitted and the argument stopped and he was permitted to expand
his ego, he became a sympathetic and kindly human being.

Buddha said: "Hatred is never ended by hatred but by love," and a
misunderstanding is never ended by an argument but by tact,
diplomacy, conciliation and a sympathetic desire to see the other
person's viewpoint.

Lincoln once reprimanded a young army officer for indulging in a
violent controversy with an associate. "No man who is resolved to
make the most of himself," said Lincoln, "can spare time for personal
contention. Still less can he afford to take the consequences,
including the vitiation of his temper and the loss of self-control. Yield
larger things to which you show no more than equal rights; and yield
lesser ones though clearly your own. Better give your path to a dog
than be bitten by him in contesting for the right. Even killing the dog
would not cure the bite."

In an article in Bits and Pieces,* some suggestions are made on how
to keep a disagreement from becoming an argument:

Welcome the disagreement. Remember the slogan, "When two
partners always agree, one of them is not necessary." If there is
some point you haven't thought about, be thankful if it is brought to
your attention. Perhaps this disagreement is your opportunity to be
corrected before you make a serious mistake.

Distrust your first instinctive impression. Our first natural reaction in
a disagreeable situation is to be defensive. Be careful. Keep calm and
watch out for your first reaction. It may be you at your worst, not
your best.

Control your temper. Remember, you can measure the size of a
person by what makes him or her angry.

Listen first. Give your opponents a chance to talk. Let them finish. Do
not resist, defend or debate. This only raises barriers. Try to build
bridges of understanding. Don't build higher barriers of
misunderstanding.

Look for areas of agreement. When you have heard your opponents
out, dwell first on the points and areas on which you agree.

Be honest, Look for areas where you can admit error and say so.
Apologize for your mistakes. It will help disarm your opponents and
reduce defensiveness.

Promise to think over your opponents' ideas and study them
carefully. And mean it. Your opponents may be right. It is a lot easier
at this stage to agree to think about their points than to move rapidly
ahead and find yourself in a position where your opponents can say:
"We tried to tell you, but you wouldn't listen."

Thank your opponents sincerely for their interest. Anyone who takes
the time to disagree with you is interested in the same things you
are. Think of them as people who really want to help you, and you
may turn your opponents into friends.

Postpone action to give both sides time to think through the
problem. Suggest that a new meeting be held later that day or the
next day, when all the facts may be brought to bear. In preparation
for this meeting, ask yourself some hard questions:

Could my opponents be right? Partly right? Is there truth or merit in
their position or argument? Is my reaction one that will relieve the
problem, or will it just relieve any frustration? Will my reaction drive
my opponents further away or draw them closer to me? Will my
reaction elevate the estimation good people have of me? Will I win
or lose? What price will I have to pay if I win? If I am quiet about it,
will the disagreement blow over? Is this difficult situation an
opportunity for me?

* Bits and Pieces, published by The Economics Press, Fairfield, N.J.

Opera tenor Jan Peerce, after he was married nearly fifty years, once
said: "My wife and I made a pact a long time ago, and we've kept it
no matter how angry we've grown with each other. When one yells,
the other should listen-because when two people yell, there is no
communication, just noise and bad vibrations."

• Principle 1 The only way to get the best of an argument is to avoid
it.

~~~~~~~

2 - A Sure Way Of Making Enemies -And How To Avoid It